Drive(108)
Heart pounding, I fisted my hands in my lap with a quick explanation to Nate. “This is a total coincidence. We aren’t—”
“The sad part is, I believe you,” he said as his own phone rang. “Take that.” He nodded toward my phone. I picked up just before it went to voicemail as he walked out the door.
“Reid,” I said as warm tears flowed.
This is not happening.
“I’m so damn sorry,” he said breathlessly. “Stella, I was stuck in a rainstorm in the middle of the fucking jungle. I can’t believe you answered.”
I laughed with relief as Nate paced outside the store, glancing my way on occasion. “The jungle?”
“Practically,” he said, out of breath.
“Where are you?”
“We’re in Indonesia. Adam is in some soul-searching phase, the tortured artist bullshit. He wants to be enlightened and thinks we should do it together as a band. So, where am I? In the seventh circle of hell, but I swear to Christ, I didn’t do that to hurt you. I mean, to not call. More than that. All of it. Stella, I’m sorry about what I said. That night. The position I put you in. It wasn’t fair. I just can’t help it. When I see you, I just can’t . . .”
“Reid?”
“I want you to know I respect your decision. I hate being the bigger man because that means I . . .” He exhaled. “Lose you. But you have to know I never wanted to see those tears. I’m done hurting you.”
“I know.”
“I love you, always, no matter what. You need to know that.”
“I do, Reid. I promise.”
“You’re not mad at me?”
“No.” Another hot tear fell as I wiped my face in utter disbelief. Not a word from either of them in months only to be forced into the most impossible situation imaginable. Reid sighed on the phone. “What are you doing?”
“Getting donuts, getting fat.”
“This I would love to see,” he said with a chuckle.
“If I keep it up, you’ll have no problem seeing me.”
“You’re so goddamn beautiful. That’s all I’ve ever seen.”
“So are you,” I said sincerely. “I’m so proud of you. I don’t think I ever told you that.”
“Of me? You’re the one who made Rolling Stone,” he said proudly. “I read it, Stella. I bought a thousand copies. I sent them to Paige.”
“You did?” I said as my heart threatened to leap out of my chest.
“I figured you could mail them to your family. Is a thousand enough?” He laughed again, the sound enough to finish me.
“Damn you, life,” I whispered.
“Stella, I have to go. My phone’s dying. And I’m not sure about this backup cell that looks like it came straight off the set of Jurassic Park. Can I . . . can I call you sometime? I mean, I know it’s probably going to piss him off, but Stella—”
“Yes. Please, yes,” I said low so he couldn’t hear the shake in my voice. “Call me anytime. I mean that. Happy birthday to you, too.”
“Okay, well,” he lingered.
“Reid,” I said, my voice cracking with my truth. “I love you.”
Silence. His ragged breath was the only indication that he was still there.
“Reid?”
“You never said it,” he whispered. “You never actually said the words to me.”
“But you knew,” I said as I began to bleed, yet again, for the man who stared at me from outside the window and the man I spoke to on the phone. “You always knew.”
“I hoped I was right, but now? Still?” he asked.
“Now. Still.”
“Say it again, Stella. Say it again and I’ll leap across these continents back to you.”
I glanced out at Nate, who was watching me carefully through the window. “Reid—”
“That’s enough, Stella. I promise. I’m going to go wrestle a fucking tiger or some shit,” he said, “now that I’m invincible.” I felt his smile over the phone.
“Reid?”
“Yes, Grenade?” It was another blow to the chest, but I could still feel his smile.
“Tell me that life magically starts to happen.”
“One minute past desperation, baby. I promise. I’m living proof. Believe me, Stella.”
“Okay.”
“I love you,” he whispered before he hung up.
Nate walked through the door, and I took a deep breath.
I pulled over to a rest stop at the state line, focused on the storm clouds in the distance. I turned my key and let the windows down to air out the cabin. I stretched my legs, the wind whipping through my hair, the boom of thunder in the distance.
I would go to my grave thinking closure was bullshit. I knew better. There was only letting go. And I knew better than anyone that letting go was more of a feat than making peace with a goodbye, which is all closure was. I could never make peace with goodbye. Goodbyes hurt, but letting go felt amazing. And somewhere between the hotel I left twenty-four hours ago and the road I traveled now, I felt a large part of me had already let go. The sting of that phone call was enough to send me on a soul-searching journey, but all it had done was bring me to the same conclusion. Even in hindsight, with all of your mistakes disappearing in the distance, the things you got right are there alongside them.